


Special Delivery

by snarechan



Category: Transformers, Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-28
Updated: 2008-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarechan/pseuds/snarechan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old face reappears new and challenging, bringing with it a message.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special Delivery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nri_ennui](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nri_ennui).



> Original title, I know, but what'cha gonna do? XD This is another holiday giftfic, this time a surprise for Nri. It was a present that had a lot of research put into it; I must have lived in the comics for a good while before I felt comfortable attempting this, and I'm sure some inaccuracies remain despite my best efforts. The area they're in, as far as I'm aware, is entirely fictional and of my own making, so try not to think too hard on placing it. Besides that, all that's left to know is that it takes place when The Fallen hasn't been gone for that long.

In the cosmos existed a room.

This room wasn't easily accessible, and had never been talked about in stories or described in detail to anyone. Here, in this subsistent observatory, existence was steady, tranquil, and aligned as it should be. Vector Prime actively saw that the galaxy remained on course, painstakingly keeping track of the "stream" of time down to a level that had no scientific equivalent or name, the speed at which he processed his duty surpassing thought. Endless centuries had taught him how to be efficient and productive to every last detail.

He was surrounded by pulsing, flowing particles of life, a mist that patterned and coded itself in a language only he could fully comprehend, for it was felt more than understood by any specific Cybertronian sense. It was constant, predictable, and comforting to nurture and observe, not needing to directly interfere in the galaxy's growth to leave his mark on its history.

This was, of course, aside from the occasional… _challenge,_ as was expected, since if matters always ran smoothly then he would not be present _._ Time was delicate, sensitive to the most minor of disturbances, reacting akin to a pond or river would to the slightest touch. As guardian, his job wasn't _easy_ , but it was satisfying, giving back as much effort as it took.

Barely within the parameters of his sight, he saw a flicker – a spark – and he turned towards it in alarm. A flame came to life, spreading and infecting to paint a grotesque image of chaos and destruction as it smothered the year F.D. 990 to L.C.S. 21 of a far off quadrant of space in a smoke-filled dance. He summoned one of his swords and swung it, the edge putting out the blaze in a single pass by producing a powerful gust.

Bleak specks like ashes floated towards his face, mingling outside their designated place, and gently – more carefully than a being of his sheer size and power should have been capable of – he cupped a hand and swept it through the air, scooping up the remains and clutching them close. Repair would be costly, consuming vast amounts of energy and attention, if it were at all possible at this point.

Sword still in his other hand, he whirled around and dipped the tip beneath a solid black chin, restraint stopping it from shredding several-inch-thick armor plating and hellfire. The unwelcome visitor, who had _not_ been present two seconds prior, neither flinched nor showed a hint of fear at the closeness of an obviously-very-dangerous weapon or its more-than-capable wielder. The newcomer remained fixed to his relaxed position, arms crossed over his frontal plating and head tilted in an absurdly quizzical way. He could be called amused and it wouldn't be too far from the truth.

"You are not welcome here. You never were–" Vector Prime began to point out, but was languidly cut off by the other before he could gather enough wit to finish by addressing him.

"I no longer go by that heinous name."

"Yes, I suppose you would not, seeing as it died with the last of your faith and dignity," he said bitterly, a fist still clutching the broken pieces of time while the other hand kept his sword steadily at his opponent's throat. "Very well. How is it that you are referred to these days?"

"Fallen, if you please," he supplied, mimicking Vector Prime's polite way of speaking while throwing in his own bit of arrogant flare and a mocking tone to add further insult. "It has a pleasant ring to it, wouldn't you say?"

It was indeed appropriate, so well-suited, in fact, that Vector Prime did not squander time; responding in the affirmative. The wounds that the follower of Unicron had wrought when he abandoned their side had not been cauterized in his wake, remaining sore with disbelief and wide open to have salt proverbially slathered on in the form of witnessing firsthand how far his brother had let himself be twisted. He did not have enough consideration to pity what knew full well what it was getting into, but he could still mourn what was once beautiful and now lost forever.

"Why have you come? If you have arrived to invite me along for your cause, then your efforts are wasted."

The aura of fire enveloping the Fallen burned brighter for a second, like a furnace being fed, with smoke flickering from the mouth of his helm in huffs. He was laughing.

"Curious that you would consider yourself important enough to receive such a blessing. But no, my master does not acknowledge your presence, and the answer to that inquiry is obvious to me.

"There is only room for one true follower of the Chaos Bringer, and as you can see, that position has been filled. I hardly believe you would make for a suitable replacement."

To prove his point, he reached up and took hold of Vector Prime's weapon, a threatening hiss accompanying the touch. His hand was ablaze and turning the blade a steaming red, heat radiating from end to end. The action caused the guardian enough surprise that his grip actually loosened at the scorching heat, which gave the Fallen ample opportunity to toss the sword aside.

"You cannot withstand the simplest of agonies, hiding away while the real threat exists beyond your comforts. You are too _weak_ to possibly be a candidate for Him."

He swept out a hand, appearing to prepare for a repeat of his fireworks show from earlier, but Vector Prime would not permit it.

"Stop; do not-"

As he reached to intercept, instead of brushing him away or striking him while he was open, the Fallen took hold of Vector Prime's hand and pulled him flush, their chest plates colliding with a clang of metal on metal. The hand still clinging to the previous flare became stuck between their bodies, and Vector Prime grunted softly in equal parts surprise and disgust, trying to wrench free.

"My master has given me more control than you can fathom."

Starting from their joined hands, a pale glow started and warmth coiled down his arm, across his chest, and spread throughout the rest of his body. His armor turned pastel oranges and yellows as it was consumed by the deceptively timid heat, but it was too invasive and forthcoming to be considered pleasant.

"And indisputable power."

Then, a sharp burning shot through him, the glow turning into a full blown wildfire – uncontrollable, unstoppable, and unbearable. Vector Prime cried out, increasing his struggles. In that span of time, the Fallen reached for the stubborn fist nestled between their frames, forcefully unfurling it and revealing the tattered remains of a gap that could unravel the very universe around them if left unattended. The tiny particles resembled clustered stars at his command.

"He will conquer everything; it is inevitable. You are merely delaying what cannot be changed, no matter how long you linger alone in this place. You are deluded if you think He can be stopped. If we must perish, then I desire a part in it," the Fallen murmured cheek-to-cheek, leaving blatant scorch marks where he touched. "I _have_ been given a part in it."

As quickly as it started, the Fallen ceased the assault and released his hold in one smooth motion, allowing Vector Prime's knees to wobble slightly and his body, no longer supported, to succumb to his injuries and slide to kneel at his feet. His palm continued to house the swirling beacons, their appearance resembling the destruction of a nebula in all its glory.

"That is a mere sampling of what is to come," he stated, tone void of remorse as he finished with, "When He commands the elimination of the pests that worship Primus, I will not hesitate to deliver. Nothing personal; just a perk of the new position."

He parted then, a black abyss bursting forth at his back, with tendrils of fire licking at its edges. There was nothing on the opposite side except a dark pit of negativity that reeked with decay, and it was this that the Fallen stepped into, optics piercing him the entire while. When the majority of his frame had left the secluded chamber, his portal started to bend and warp closed, and right before it shut completely and separated their worlds, the Fallen blew a mockery of a kiss, dousing what little fodder remained in his hand.

One single flake remained, gradually drifting in Vector Prime's direction. He watched its descent, tumbling through the currents that had miraculously remained untouched, until it landed next to his smallest digit. Motionless, its dark coloration was in contrast with the numerous hues that decorated every available surface, a blemish on an otherwise perfect canvas.

Fingers twitching, he slowly slid his hand over the piece, optics dimming as he converted and redirected his energies to this one task. When he picked it back up, a chunk resembling a part of a planet had replaced the cinder, it darting off in a blur similar to a comet to return to its rightful place in the scheme of things. This was only the beginning; it would take many more centuries to recover. Thankfully, he was ready and willing to succeed at the tasks set in his path.

Abandoned and determined, hurt and noble, he murmured to the empty air, "We shall see."

-Fin-


End file.
